Red
by jazzyproz
Summary: Taking place in the Season 2-Season 3 timeframe, Booth and Brennan struggle to accept and work around the Line that Booth drew to keep them safely apart. A Oneshot that I resurrected from the depths of my long-forgotten Misc Fics Folder! Rated M for a reason, folks!


**A/N Hi there!**

 **So, when I posted Chapter 41 on Aggregation a few weeks ago, I mentioned that JazzyMuse had been misbehaving and trying to sideline my attention when I found a number of partially finished oneshots & snippets inside a folder, inside another folder, inside another, and so on... **

**I considered taking some of what I've previously written and recycling it into Aggregation's chapter 42, which is well on the way to completion, but still lacking something that I can't quite identify yet. As I read some excerpts and pieces, scrolling through document after document, I came across this story. It was pretty much complete (except for some editing) and I had forgotten all about it until I read the opening lines…**

 **I'm actually not sure why I never did a final edit to post it. Based on the date my doc was created, I cranked it out somewhere around the time I began writing Riotous Rhesus, so maybe I didn't want to interrupt my momentum with Rhesus, and put this on a back burner (?) I really can't say. Eventually it ended up flat-out buried until I resurrected it last week.**

 **It needed editing, so I cleaned it up a bit and decided to share it. It takes place late in Season 2, maybe even towards the beginning of Season 3, so it was clearly one of my '** _ **what if**_ ' **fantasies from early-series B &B, because, c'mon, who didn't love their early chemistry with all that unfulfilled sexual tension? And I'll admit, it's a bit OC...**

 **Mind the rating - it's rated M… for Mmm Mmm Yummy. But if you don't like M, leave now (but then again, if you don't like M, why did you even open this page?) But seriously, it's M for harsh language and smut. Oh, and a touch of frustrated, alpha-male, possessive, slightly aggressive Booth... so there's your warning.**

 **I don't own Bones, but I think we all know that by now...**

 _Fuck_ …

 _She's trying to fucking kill me…._

 _Aww, shit,_ he swept his hand roughly across his face and tugged at his bow-tie.

 _Red_.

She was wearing _red_. And not just any ol' drab shade of the color, either... Nope, that would make it too easy for him...

This was... _RED_.

The color of fire and blood.

Passion. Desire. The color of _sin_.

And it was practically painted onto her... _like a second fucking skin_.

Booth felt his entire body go hard, his jaw clenched and his biceps flexed beneath his fitted tuxedo. He knocked back a shot. He was gonna need a helluva lot more than that to get him through the evening.

The afternoon before, when Brennan had broached the subject of the banquet, she'd been genuinely upset when Booth told her he wasn't planning to attend. He should have known better than to take her bait; he'd been trying to keep some distance between them, but _dammit_ , she was like an addiction that he just couldn't overcome… The longer they worked together, the more times they went undercover, or sat side by side in his truck debating a case, or across from each other at the diner bickering playfully, the more he wanted to set fire to the piece of shit line he'd foolishly and impulsively drawn earlier that year, and simply take her, claiming her as his.

" _What?! What do you mean you won't be there!?" Her pale gaze flared. "You're my_ _ **partner**_ _. You have to be there."_

" _No I don't, Bones," he shook his head. "This is a Jeffersonian thing,_ _ **not**_ _an FBI thing… Those people, they don't wanna see me or ask me questions. That's for you guys, you and your squints."_

" _But I went to **your** thing last month," she argued. _

" _You_ _were expected to be there, Bones. They were recognizing us." He deadpanned his eyes at her, trying to ignore the growing sense of guilt rising from his gut. "This isn't a recognition-thing… This is you, and your squints, trying to raise money for the lab."_

" _But, it's not only for the Lab, it's for the whole museum," her voice took on that lost-little-girl quality as her brow wrinkled. "And…" she searched for a valid reason, biting her bottom lip momentarily. "You're my partner, Booth…"_

" _Nope." He tried to sidestep her, attempting to escape the confines of her office, but with cat-like reflexes, she was in front of him, her arms folded across her breasts and he sighed. "Well, yeah I_ _ **am**_ _your partner, but I don't have to be there. I didn't get an invite. That means they don't need me."_

" _ **I'm**_ _inviting you…" It was nearly a whine, but she didn't care._

" _That's only 'cause misery loves company." He was expecting her to pipe up with her trademark 'I don't know what that means,' but she didn't._

" _But… I have to give a speech," she pouted as her head tilted to one side._

 _Booth fought the undeniable, magnetic pull he always felt when wanting to wipe a frown off her perfectly shaped lips, determined to stay strong in his endeavor to break his addiction. If she kept up with these uncharacteristic little-girl pouts, he was gunna have to find a GA meeting that night and pray to God that he could find the strength…_

 _Inhaling sharply, he nodded. "Exactly._ _ **You**_ _are giving a speech. They wanna hear from_ _ **you**_ _. No one wants to hear from me, Bones." He tried again to step around her, but like before, it was as if she anticipated his movements and shifted her own stance, blocking him in. With a wary glance, he realized she'd cut off the only remaining direct route to the exit. If he was going to get out of that office unscathed, he would have to duck to the left, circle around her coffee table_ _ **and**_ _couch, and then make a beeline for the door… or he could shift right, squeeze between the visitor chairs and her desk to achieve the same result… He'd never make it that way...he'd probably end up knocking over one of the chairs… Her persistent, albeit hesitant, argument interrupted his escape-planning._

" _But," the scientist couldn't think of another plausible reason to persuade him to attend the function. She couldn't very well just come out and admit to_ _ **wanting**_ _him there, that would go against everything she believed in… She didn't_ _ **need**_ _him there; she was an independent, successful woman, more than capable of conversing with donors without her partner to escort her from one social circle to the next..._

" _Listen," he patted her biceps lightly, keeping a full arm's-length distance between them. "You're gunna do great. But I can't go." Before she could out-maneuver him again, he used his gentle hold on her arms to hold her steady while he slipped around her and moved quickly towards the door._

 _Remaining frozen in place long enough for the antsy agent to dance past her, the anthropologist let her arms fall limply to her sides. Staring blindly at the bookcases lining the wall, she heard her partner's rapid-fire farewell, wondering if he was avoiding the gala because he had other plans… Maybe he had a date… It_ _ **was**_ _a Friday night, after all, she swallowed thickly._

 _Speaking quickly, he made his escape. "In case I don't see you tomorrow for lunch, good luck with your speech, Bones. I'll see you Monday, huh?" He was across the threshold of her office door and heading out into the lab-proper before he realized she hadn't even acknowledged his exit. With a squeak of his shoe's sole, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. What he saw made him flagellate himself for his abrupt and unwarranted brush-off._

 _She was standing exactly where he left her. Her back was still to the office door and she faced the back wall where he'd been standing before managing to flee. Her arms still hung loosely at her sides and her shoulders slumped, like someone experiencing hopeless defeat._

 _And just like that, his resolve crumbled. With a quiet sigh and an eyeroll towards the ceiling of his partner's clinical sanctuary, he knew he had no choice but to attend._

 _Dammit. He hoped he could find a support group tonight._

 _He turned around and strode back towards the office, shoving his hands into his pockets. Leaning one shoulder against the steel doorframe, he sighed heavily._

" _What time does this thing start tomorrow?"_

 _She spun around suddenly. Her blues were brighter than they had been and the frown line between her eyebrows smoothed into the silky skin he always itched to touch. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she studied him, hoping she understood his intention._

" _You'll come?"_

 _Her voice was hopeful, and Booth thought her anticipation was adorable._

 _Glancing up at the ceiling again, he rolled his lips and licked them with the tip of his tongue before looking at her. "Yeah," he shrugged nonchalantly, almost imperceptibly. "I mean, I_ _ **am**_ _your partner an'all, right?"_

 _Brennan rushed forward and for a split second, Booth thought she was going to hug him so he pushed upright from the door jam. She seemed to catch herself, however, and stopped abruptly, inhaling sharply. Reaching out, her arms extended awkwardly, like she was going to pat his arms just as he had done to her moments before, but in the end, she must have thought better of her actions and just thrust her hands back into the pockets of her lab coat with a quiet grumble at her inability to convey her feelings._

" _Thank you, Booth." She bit her bottom lip, uncertain why she felt a rush of relief knowing he would be with her at the banquet. Unwilling to analyze her emotions at that moment, she vowed to herself to revisit her frame of mind at a later date._

" _Yeah," he tried to ignore his own anticipation at the idea of seeing his partner dressed to the nines for a fancy-schmancy shindig. "No problem, Bones."_

" _Seven o'clock."_

 _He nodded. "Ok." He stepped a half-step backwards and raised his chin a bit, looking at her through dark eyes. "You, ah, you want me to pick you up?" What the hell was he doing? He drew that line for a reason! He shouldn't be treating this like a date! Ignoring the annoying voices in his head, the determined agent plowed forward with his_ _un_ _thought-out plan. "You know, why have two cars there when we can carpool?" Another shrug. "Save the planet an'all, less emissions…"_

" _Um, no," she stammered, but quickly continued to explain her response. "That is… I mean, I'm planning to go to Angela's after work tomorrow to prepare for the evening. And then we will go together." She licked her lips nervously and raised her eyebrows. "Maybe you can drop me home afterwards. Or back at Ange's for my car?"_

 _Booth considered this for a minute and nodded, stepping forward again as an idea, a selfish,_ _dangerous_ _idea formed in his mind. "How about I pick you up in the morning? We can have breakfast... And then you don't have to worry about your car." When he saw the wheels turning in her eyes, he spoke hurriedly. "You know, after work you can just ride with Angela to her place and then, after the dinner banquet I'll take you home…" He shrugged as if it was the most logical course of action known to man… an honest-to-God no-brainer. "Besides, if I need to make sure to get outta work on time tomorrow night, I doubt I'll get a break for lunch, so I'll need a big breakfast to get me through the day…"_

" _Breakfast sounds very rational in that case…" she allowed her smile to soften._

 _Backing away from her office, Booth let his eyes linger across her pale features, his brain warring with his heart, which were both fighting his gut. "I'll see you in the morning, Bones."_

 _She watched him take three backwards steps before he turned around and she realized she hadn't discussed the logistics of the evening. Remaining in the entrance to her office, she called out, her voice carrying easily through the cavernous lab._

" _It's being held in the Cherry Blossom Hall at the -"_

" _I know where it is, Bones," he replied over his shoulder, hiding a smirk._

" _And it's black tie, Booth!"_

" _Got it, Bones! I'll be there in my monkey suit!" He chuckled at her concern that he wouldn't show up in appropriate attire._

" _Wait!" She held up a finger. "Let me give you my invitation so they will let you in…" She started to turn towards her desk when_ _she heard his retort._

" _Bones," he turned but continued to walk backwards towards the double doors. Unbuttoning his gray suit jacket, he pulled the sides open. "I've got a badge...and a gun…. If I need to, I'll use them to get in…" His lips curled in cocky assurance. "Don't you worry, I'll be there."_

 _With that, she stood in silence and watched him retreat out of sight. She let a shaky breath escape, enjoying the warmth that was spreading through her body at the thought of her perfectly-proportioned partner dressed in a tux._

 _He drew that damn line and it wasn't fair, she mused with a mutinous streak swelling in her chest. She wanted to extinguish the very existence of that blasted line, but she was on unfamiliar ground. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she chastised herself for the foolish jealousy she experienced when she assumed he had a date for Friday night, fueling his strong opposition to attending. But the mere fact that he relented and agreed to attend the banquet gave her hope that there just might be a chance to metaphorically dip her toe into the uncertain and somewhat scary waters in which Angela was constantly encouraging her to play._

B/B/B/B

He arrived before most of the guests, entering the hall through a back door after thoroughly checking-out of the security detail assigned to the gig and finding it satisfactory. In his mind, one could never be too careful with security at functions where wealthy individuals were known to be attending. Besides, his partner's safety meant enough to him that he strived to be constantly aware of their surroundings and the people around them.

He had already seen and greeted Cam, complimenting her before leaving her to schmooze with some wealthy guy giving her an appreciative eye. Then, he spotted Hodgins and Zach, both of whom tried to rope him into a conversation already underway, excitedly talking with two others Booth didn't recognize about some new strain of fungal virus found on the abdomens of desert tarantulas… _Fuck no,_ he thought, no way in hell he was getting drawn into _that_ goddamn squinty discussion. He was surprised to see that even Dr. Goodman had returned from his overseas explorations to attend the fundraiser. The agent greeted the older man cordially, chatting briefly before bidding him good luck in his endeavors to secure enough money to continue his archaeological digs.

 _Where the hell is Bones?!_ He ground his molars and checked his watch again, growing irritated at her tardiness.

Strolling through the ballroom, Booth felt ridiculously out of place among the scholars and wealthy donors, all buzzing about the newest technology and exciting discoveries underway across the globe, not to mention right there in their own backyard. He spied, _and quickly claimed,_ a backless stool at the end of the polished oak bar, ordering a double shot of top-shelf bourbon… If he was gunna be stuck at this thing for God knows how long, he knew he'd need the good stuff, not the cheap shit they try to pass off to unsuspecting patrons who didn't know any better than to ask.

As the crowd grew thicker, he waited impatiently, bouncing his leg with nervous energy as his ever-observant eyes studied everything and everyone. The room was filling with Museum Directors and Shareholders, Heads of Departments and key members representing all areas of the government institution. Booth had only attended a few functions with the Brain Trust, typically successful in talking his way out of the obligation or getting himself appointed to some other crap assignment that didn't require the specialities of his squint squad.

When she had given him _that look_ , however, with her big, owly eyes searching his for an explanation as the perfectly smooth skin of her forehead crinkled in confusion and disappointment, he knew there'd be no way of charming his way out of attending. But suddenly, when he saw her entering through the double doors looking like pure sex on legs, he was glad he agreed to come.

 _That damn color_ …

It was the same crimson that had been haunting his dreams ever since they went undercover in Vegas…

The identical shade that had fueled his Catholic guilt time and time again, forcing him into Confession more often than he liked to admit, in repentance for the near-nightly, sinful _and deliciously_ _impure_ fantasies he'd had about his partner.

His whole body went on alert, instantly tense, and filled to the brim with a wickedly primal possessive yearning.

Motioning for a refill, Booth kept his eyes on said partner as she glided into the room, weaving herself into the crowd while smiling and greeting those benefactors anxious to meet her.

The Agent wasn't sure he'd ever get completely accustomed to working side-by-side with a celebrity. It wasn't unusual for a fan of her fiction to approach them when they were out in public, or in cases such as that he was witnessing in real time, wealthy individuals crowding around her in attempts to catch a smile of appreciation as they promised to fund some new, fancy piece of _sciency_ equipment.

Studying Brennan from across the room, Booth admired the way she slipped into business mode almost immediately upon entering the ballroom, working her magic on would-be and repeat donors. He swallowed a chuckle as he thought about the way she had pouted at breakfast, complaining that Cam had the _audacity_ to lecture _the best forensic anthropologist in the world_ about 'behaving herself' at the banquet. Apparently, after Booth had left the lab Thursday afternoon, the pathologist approached Brennan warily, hemming and hawing before getting right down to it, reading her the riot act to not insult anyone's intelligence, be gracious, be appreciative, and other such nonsense. The two strong-willed women were still having the occasional difficulty finding their footing and working together… Most likely due to his partner's fierce stubborn streak and her blatant disregard of respect for the former New York Coroner's administrative seniority in the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab…

Tossing back his refilled shot, Booth nearly choked when he spotted an unknown man step close and place an open palm on Brennan's lower back, _on his spot_ , and he shot to his feet. With a dark, threatening focus, he stalked in her direction.

Like a man on a mission, he cut through the crowd, barely acknowledging Angela when he brushed past her. His ebony eyes were locked on his partner's profile, or, more specifically, on the profile of the gentle curve of her back, _where an obviously well-to-do stranger had the balls to rest an open hand_. He didn't miss the way she tried to politely navigate away from the unknown appendage, but it seemed that Mr. Moneybags didn't get the hint, following her as she tried to shift to a different group of attendees in well-behaved socialite milling.

Booth clenched his jaw. If he was a stranger looking in on the scene, he'd suspect this asshole was actually escorting Brennan, the guy was standing so close. And the idea that some of these people meeting her for the first time might suspect the same thing set his blood boiling. Worse yet, the mere notion that the well-dressed man had big enough cajones to appoint himself as her escort forced Booth to swallow a growl.

 _Fuck the Line._

He wanted to set fire to that thorn in his side and then punch himself in the face for making such a dumbass declaration. He tried to force distance between himself and his partner in a feeble attempt to protect them from possible pain, but in that moment, he couldn't imagine a worse pain than what he'd feel if she was actually _with_ an asshole like this guy...

Closing the distance, he recognized the familiar lilt and cadence of her voice as she greeted a female donor she obviously knew from previous functions. Booth observed his gorgeous partner try to introduce the intrusive man stuck to her like glue to the attractive woman she'd just hugged loosely, but it was obvious that Mr. Big-Bucks wasn't interested in the other female.

As if she sensed his proximity, Brennan turned and smiled just before Booth sidled up against her. Placing his own hand high on her back, just between her shoulder blades, his fingers flexed against the silky skin on display courtesy of her spaghetti strapped dress.

"Evenin', Bones," he said quietly as he boldly leaned in and pressed a firm kiss on her cheek, pleased to see the pretty shade of pink blossom across her cheeks as she smiled and angled herself towards him. Sliding his left hand down her back, he literally knocked the other man's hand away. "You look amazing," he complimented softly, meeting her smile. Possessively, he tugged her ever-so-slightly closer, sending a wordless warning at the shocked expression of the man on her other side, whose eyes he met with a steady, ebony gaze.

Brennan relaxed at her partner's touch, a realization that she consciously pushed to the back of her mind, filed along with yesterday's observation, until she had time to further consider her feelings for Booth. Smiling, she nodded at her partner in appreciation, sensing that he knew she'd been uncomfortable with the other man's hand on her. "Hi, Booth," she let her eyes flick down and back up. "You also look very nice." She swallowed thickly, ignoring the sudden flutters that erupted in her abdomen. Forcing herself to address those surrounding them, she shifted a bit, allowing her partner's hand to remain in place. "This is my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth," she smiled and motioned to him as she spoke to the small gathering of donors close-by.

Booth graciously accepted a wave of accolades about their well-recognized success rate, shaking hands with the men and women in greeting. When Mr. Wealthypants reached across the small circle with an extended hand and a challenging expression, Booth's smile no longer reached his eyes, but remained painted on his face. With a firm grasp, he shook the man's hand twice, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name?" Booth eyed the man, committing his face to memory and intent on looking into this joker when he got back to his office.

"Reginald Warren." Mr. Handsy replied with a cool tone. "Of the _McLean_ Warren's." The man hailing from one of the wealthiest zip codes in the area seemed to think this information would impress Booth, or perhaps, more likely, impress Brennan.

Booth nodded once, jutting his jaw out faintly as he eyed Warren, sizing him up with unspoken masculine competition. "Yeah, I've been to McLean," he said calmly. "Arrested a homicidal maniac who was masquerading as an affluent investor, all while abducting young women, drugging them before torturing and burying 'em in his basement…" With a cocky shrug of one shoulder, he addressed some of the others standing close. "Never can tell about some people, no matter where they live, y'know?"

The others nodded in intrigued agreement. The men in the group sensed and completely understood the instantaneous tension between the men, while the women mostly eyed the FBI Special Agent hungrily. Warren squared his shoulders and straightened his tux jacket, insulted at the tarnishing comment about his town. "Well, it was lovely to meet you, Dr. Brennan," he now ignored Booth completely. "I don't want to monopolize your time. Perhaps you will join me at my estate for dinner one evening?"

Not interested in pursuing any sort of relationship with the man who inexplicably gave her an uneasy feeling, Brennan tried to think of an acceptable response that wouldn't get her in trouble with the Jeffersonian or jeopardize a possible donation. She smiled demurely, shifting her weight so she was actually leaning closer to Booth as she spoke. "My schedule is terribly busy, but I thank you for the invitation all the same." She thrust her hand out when she sensed he was going to lean in for a sideways kiss. "Goodbye, Mr. Warren. It was very nice to meet you as well. Thank you for your continued support. We'll be sure that your family name is recognized accordingly when the Annual Endowment publication is printed." She phrased it so that those around them would know to watch for Warren's name in the public journal that disclosed and openly praised non-anonymous donors, knowing that he would be less likely to pull funds if there was a chance his name would be missed.

Taken aback by the brisk dismissal, Warren blinked. The well-known playboy was unaccustomed to being turned down, especially by individuals who depended upon his donations. Inhaling slowly, he considered his options as his eyes moved between the beautiful scientist and her overprotective brute of a partner. Quickly forcing himself to smile again at the pale blue eyes that had captivated him when he first saw her in the newspaper, he shook his head once. "I'll be in touch," not yet willing to take 'no' as an answer. "I'll have my people call your people and arrange dinner." He knew how to reach the anthropologist, she was easily located at the Jeffersonian, and he was determined to get her alone, to spend time with her without the hovering Feeb. What he _wasn't_ expecting, however, was her response to his not-so-subtle insistence.

Turning to Booth, Brennan's brow wrinkled and she whispered loudly. "What people is he talking about?"

Booth smirked, his cock-sure attitude on full alert. Turning away from Warren, his smile warmed at his partner as his thumb swept across the soft skin above the material where the rest of his hand resided. "Reginald here thinks you have staff that schedules your dinner engagements… _And_ for any other arrangements he might try to entice you to partake in…"

Brennan's eyebrows shot towards her hairline and she chuckled, looking back at Warren without realizing how humiliating it could be if she turned him down in front of other donors. "Oh, Mr. Warren, I manage my own schedule. I don't have ' _people,'_ as you put it." She tilted her head and suddenly the already-thin filter that was between her brain and her mouth dissipated completely. "If _anyone_ other than myself plans my meals, it's Booth," she motioned to her partner absently, missing the insulted expression on her would-be-suitor. "He's _constantly_ abducting me from the lab for sustenance."

Brennan's attention was immediately pulled from Warren when one of the women in the gathering brazenly spoke up, addressing her partner.

"Agent Booth, you can abduct me for lunch if you ever need company!"

The comment was made in good humor and Booth chuckled, nodding at the older woman with a flirty wink. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you ma'am." He knew the playful offer was harmless, but when he glanced at his partner, he instantly knew she thought it was a serious offer. Sliding his hand a little further around her back, he tugged her tighter while still maintaining a professional image and addressing the small group at large. "But somethin' tells me that most of my meals will continue just as they have been over the past couple'a years." When he felt his partner's tension ease, he smiled in satisfaction and directed his next statement to her. "Bones, I think those folks over there are waiting to meet you," he nodded at another small group of attendees who were watching her anxiously.

"Yes, of course." She smiled at the few people around them and prepared to move along. "Will you excuse us?" Without waiting for an answer, she shifted and pulled away from Booth, but only for as long as it took to thread her arm through his.

Puffing his chest like a strutting peacock, Booth nodded at his partner's fans and guided her away. They made the circuit just as she was expected to do, meeting and greeting, schmoozing and enticing benefactors to give generously to the advancement of the research and investigative developments conducted by the Medico-Legal Lab. Booth was irritated more than once at the outright attempts by strangers to lure his partner into accepting social invitations to dinners and otherwise romantic rendezvous.

He failed to acknowledge, however, the various offers that he, too, received, which were squelched quickly by his charming partner and her disturbingly steep learning curve. At least, he didn't notice until one particular woman actually had the nerve to place her hands on him, in a poorly hidden attempt to measure the firmness of his chest by smoothing over his tuxedo lapel. In a flash, Brennan's hand darted out from her side and gripped the stranger's wrist, gently but without hesitation, just as the young lady's palm flattened against the front of his shoulder.

With a serious, no-nonsense expression, Temperance Brennan flat-out lied to the well-dressed female encroaching on her territory. "Agent Booth doesn't like to be touched," her cool blues pinned the woman with an unwavering challenge. "But he's far too polite to mention it." Pushing the woman's hand gently away, she squared her shoulders again and arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I, however, am well known for my blunt demeanor and manner of speech, so I am in no way shy about setting physical boundaries and enforcing them as necessary."

Flustered, the woman's gaze bounced between the star of the evening and her attractive FBI partner, about whom she'd read extensively and had been exceedingly pleased to learn was attending the gala that evening. "My apologies, Agent Booth," she met his dark brown eyes and felt a flutter in her stomach at the pure, alpha masculinity he exuded in person. "I meant no disrespect," her eyes flicked down his torso. "I, um, thought I noticed a wrinkle in your lapel and meant to only smooth it."

Booth started to raise his own hand to brush down the front of his jacket collar, but was beaten to it when Brennan's pale arm stretched across his chest and straightened the non-existent crease. Feeling a rush of warmth flood his cheeks, Booth was certain even his ears were turning pink, he coughed and nodded. "That's not a problem, Mrs. McGovern," he said.

" _Miss_ McGovern," she quickly corrected with a flirty smile that instantly fell when Brennan demanded Booth's full attention.

"Booth, look," she pointed across the ballroom. "Dr. Goodman has returned from his excavation." Before Booth could mention that he'd already spoken to his partner's former boss, she was excusing them from the small gathering, hooking her arm around his thick bicep again and tugging. "I'd like to go say hello. It's been quite a while since we last spoke…"

Booth smirked in cocky assurance as they worked their way through the crowd. _She isn't fooling me_ , he mused smugly. _She's jealous. Now she knows how I feel_ _ **all**_ _the goddamn time…_ As they reached Goodman, Brennan released her possessive hold on his arm and gave the her former administrator a friendly hug, which gave Booth the opportunity to reclaim his spot again, with an open palm low on her back. As she chatted amicably to her colleague, the agent had only one thought swimming through his mind.

 _Tonight, I'm making Bones mine..._

The evening passed surprisingly fast and finally Brennan was on stage, taking her turn to deliver a well-planned speech. She thanked repeat donors, welcomed new ones and took the opportunity to introduce her team. It was made perfectly clear that she was not the head of the Medico-Legal lab, but everyone knew that she was the face of the Brain Trust, answering to Cam out of respect and formality only.

Booth didn't expect to be acknowledged at the event, not being part of the Jeffersonian. Brennan, however, had other plans. She beckoned him to take the stage at her side, insisting that if it hadn't been for his tenacity in seeking the assistance of their Lab, they wouldn't have formed such a formidable bond and partnership. To his credit, the FBI agent delivered a short, impromptu speech, encouraging those in attendance to give generously, contributing to the betterment of science and recognizing the same team that Brennan had introduced, as the force behind the excellent turnaround times in solving cases and uncovering previously missed evidence and clues on a number of cold cases, giving several families closure they would not have been otherwise granted.

When they exited the stage, Dr. Goodman took their place, reminiscing briefly about his time working with Booth and Brennan before returning to his true passion of archaeology. He segued smoothly into his prepared speech, recounting the most recent expedition for which he'd been handpicked to lead, and explaining the benefits his new team received courtesy of donations and grants received at functions like the one they were all attending, He eagerly entertained the crowd with a slideshow of some recent finds and their significance on the world history stage.

When the lights dimmed for Goodman's presentation, Booth settled back in his chair and draped his arm around the back of Brennan's seat, letting his calloused fingertips swipe absently against her pale shoulders. When her head whipped around and her pale eyes pinned him firmly, he froze his movements and swallowed thickly. Her stormy blues had darkened to a shade Booth couldn't even name and in that moment, he was certain that he wasn't alone in feeling the electricity crackling between them.

Curling her lips gently, Brennan slipped her hand from where it rested on her lap and she flexed her fingers around his leg, just above his knee. With a soft sigh, she inhaled slowly and leaned closer to him, almost imperceptibly, and turned her attention back to the stage. With a familiarity that belied the true nature of their partnership, her nimble fingers followed the inseam of his slacks, swiping up and down in no particular pattern as she focused on the exciting finds that Goodman's field team had uncovered. Once she felt Booth's caress resume, this time with more confidence, her smile grew and she felt herself growing warmer in response to his ministrations.

As speakers droned on, most of whom he didn't know, Booth grew anxious for the function to be over. His concentration waned as his mind wandered over the course of the evening. The touches, the bold caresses and shy nudges, on both of their parts, were setting his body on edge. Once Booth had sidled up to his partner, reclaiming _his spot_ from the asshole who had boldly infringed on his real estate, the agent pretty much kept physical contact throughout the rest of the evening. And whether it was on a subconscious level or not, Brennan had played her part in maintaining contact as well.

The times his hand wasn't resting on the small of her back, it was only because she had looped her arm through his, draping her forearm around his or, when they were standing still, curling her wrist up so she could grasp his bicep. There were a couple of times when their fingers had twined loosely as they walked, effectively holding hands for anyone to see. And _then_ , there was the not-so-subtle show of dominance his socially awkward anthropologist displayed when a few of the women they'd encountered showed even the slightest inkling of interest in him. His partner might not recognize social cues directed at her, or understand common pop-culture colloquialisms, but she certainly picked up on the sexual innuendos tossed his way, even those that were said in humor. He sat back in his seat, smirking at the knowledge that she was obviously feeling as territorial of him as he was of her, and his decision to obliterate that frigging line was reinforced.

His partner's strokes along his inner knee-area had been increasing in pressure. She suddenly seemed more than willing to risk the chance of being caught as her teasing fingertips sent all sorts of naughty thoughts soaring through the neurotransmitters of his frontal lobe. When those phalanges started to wander just a little too much, his hand flexed against her shoulder, gripping her tight as his free hand dropped below the table and clamped over her impish digits.

Grateful they were sitting off to the side of their table, and on the edge of the ballroom, Booth felt confident that very few people, if anyone at all, would have noticed the interaction. And at that point, he'd resolved, he didn't give a flying fuck who saw. Leaning over, he inhaled deeply when he drew close enough to smell her perfume and he chuckled darkly when he saw her shiver. Speaking softly, his voice sounded husky, even to himself, and he spoke directly into her ear.

"Bones," he practically growled. "Tell me you're ready to get the hell outta here… And tell me I'm not the only one feeling this, right?"

B/B/B/B

Booth crowded Brennan against her door as she struggled to fit the key into the hole. He splayed his fingers wide around her hips and leaned his mouth close behind her ear. "Need help, there, Bones?"

His dark, predatory chuckle sent chills of excitement down Brennan's spine and she was finally successful in unlocking the deadbolt. Allowing her partner to reach forward and push the door open from behind, she led him into the shadowed apartment. As soon as he kicked the door closed, Booth reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back and spinning her until she was sandwiched firmly between his body and the door. Quickly entwining their fingers, he pulled Brennan's arms up, pinning them above her head as he closed the distance, running his nose along her jaw, inhaling sharply. His lips mere millimeters from hers, his dark eyes searched hers.

"What the hell are we doing, Bones?" He wanted to know her stance, _needed_ to make sure she wasn't playing him or simply planning to satisfy a friggin' biological urge.

Ignoring his question, Brennan squeezed her fingers, tightening them around his. "Your alpha-male tendencies were on full alert tonight, Booth," she challenged him. "It almost seemed that you were threatened by some of the donors present…"

"Threatened my ass," he grunted and pressed his chest against her torso, groaning when he felt her soft, feminine curves against his firm planes. "If anyone was threatened, it was that handsy asshole, and he deserved to be threatened." Boldly, he rolled his hips. "He's lucky I didn't break his fucking fingers, he was inching down so far, he was almost on your ass."

Unable to stop her rapid heartbeat, Brennan took a stuttering breath. "Agent Booth, I am able to take care of myself, you know," she responded haughtily. "If Reginald's touch was unwelcome, I would have made it known." She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for the argument she knew would come.

"His touch _was_ unwelcome, Bones, and don't think I didn't goddamn know it." His words were strained and his body surged, instinctively longing to be as close to hers as possible. "You think I didn't see you trying to pull away from him?" He spoke against her cheek, immediately in front of her ear. "You think I didn't feel the way you relaxed when I joined you in your little huddle, and knocked that asshole's hand away?" He pulled his head back far enough to meet her heated gaze, their noses brushing against each other. "You honestly think that I was gunna stand idly by and watch another man put his hands on you? That I'd let some rich _jackass_ make moves on what's _mine_?"

" _Yours_?" Brennan protested weakly. "I am nobody's chattel, Seeley Booth." Her dainty nose turned upward in defiance.

Booth clenched his teeth and moved his knee between her thighs, forcing her body to shift against his. He bit back a cocky smirk at her sudden gasp and nearly imperceptible mewl. "You are mine, Bones." At the light of fire in her eyes, he plowed on, releasing his grip on her hands, he ran his fingers down her arms, over the subtle side swells of her breasts and settled on her hips. "And tonight I'm gunna _prove_ it to you, Temperance, that you're _already_ mine...in more ways than one…" He pressed his lips to her jaw, dropping open-mouthed kisses back towards her ear again, where he nipped gently. "Just like I'm already yours, Bones. And I have been since the night you left me standing in the rain outside that fucking poolhall."

"Booth," she breathed, instinctively knowing his harsh language was driven by the increasing tension taking control of his body.

He swallowed her next sentence, slanting his mouth to cover her lips with confident possession. He growled in appreciation when she responded in favor, opening to him and letting his tongue slip in so it could play with hers. When Booth felt her wiry fingers spear into his hair, his whole body felt like it was going to snap, he was so tightly wound. He moved his hands so they spanned her ribs and after several minutes, the need for oxygen became apparent, so they simultaneously pulled apart.

"You never answered my question, Bones," Booth nipped at her bottom lip, already addicted to kissing her.

Chasing his mouth when he pulled back, Brennan couldn't think straight, all she knew was she wanted to feel him, _to taste him_ , again. Gripping his lapel, she pulled him back, tilting her hungry lips under his as she moaned. When she felt his undeniable desire for her, pressed firmly against her lower abdomen, her nimble fingers started to gravitate towards the buttons of his starched, pleated white shirt. She growled in disapproval when his wide hands were suddenly surrounding her thin wrists, stopping their motion as he pulled away from their kiss.

"Bones," his voice was husky, full of dangerous desperation and need. "You gotta tell me."

"What?" She growled with a frown, wrenching her hands free from his and pinning him with a hard look, suddenly angry at his constant need to control all of their situations. "What do you wanna know, Booth? You want to hear about how much I want you?" She squared her shoulders in defiance. "Well, I haven't kicked you out of my apartment yet, _have I_?!" Her pale eyes flashed, her ire spiking in misunderstanding. "You want to hear how angry and hurt I was when I thought you wouldn't go tonight? When I worried that the reason was because you had a Friday-night-date with someone I didn't even know?" Her voice betrayed the emotion she so desperately wanted to hide from him. "You want me to confess how often I think about you… _and_ your damn line, and how, in direct response to the memory of that day in the park watching Parker learn to overcome his fears, I lay awake agonizing about why you thought it was ok to sleep with my boss, but you wouldn't even entertain the idea of dating me?!" She fisted her hands and banged them against his hard pecs. "What do you want from me, Booth?" A tear formed in the corner of her eye and her plea dropped to a whisper. "What, Booth? What do you want?"

His eyes softened at her melt-down and, if it was even possible, he fell further in love with his partner. Reaching up, he cradled her face in both hands, thumbing away the obedient tears that escaped. "Bones," he breathed, ghosting a kiss to the salty streak that marred the perfect skin of her cheek. "I just want to know that you understand, this can't be a one-night-stand. Not between us." When her brow wrinkled, he continued, stroking his thumbs on her face. "I want to know that I'm not alone in wanting this… _In wanting us_. In wanting everything." He tilted his head to the side. "Between you and me, it will always be more. And if you don't agree, if you don't understand that, then I can't do it…" He rested his forehead against hers and inhaled deeply. "I can't be with you tonight without the certainty that I'll be with you in the morning and again tomorrow night, and the night after…"

"Booth," she sighed, unballing her fists and smoothing them across his chest. "I know how you feel about casual sex. And I wouldn't do that to you." She rolled her lips between her teeth. "I can't promise to be everything that you need, or that i'll succeed in being a good mate for you... But I _do_ know that the idea of any other woman, any of those women who tried to gain your attention tonight, if they were with you like this," she traced his throat with one finger. "It would make me very unhappy."

Booth practically growled at her confession and pulled her face to him again, crushing her lips in a slow, deep kiss, his tongue lazily lapping at hers. One of his hands curved around her nape, controlling her direction as his other drifted down and palmed her hip. After several moments, he stopped, slowly pulling back to look at her. "For the record, I would be _very_ unhappy if you'd brought another man home, too, Bones." When a pretty pink flush filled her cheeks, his smile grew and one side of his lips twitched upwards, in a cocky smirk. "Not that I would've let anyone get close enough to talk you into bringing them home…"

"And you," she grabbed his jacket once more, "better not _abduct_ anyone else for lunch, _Agent Booth_ ," she challenged him, thinking of the multitude of poorly veiled propositions he'd received over the course of the evening. "I might not always understand your pop culture references, or follow your sports statistics, but you better believe that I _did_ recognize what those women were after…"

In a flurry of movement, the partners spun away from the door and staggered towards the bedroom, stalling along the way as they bumped into walls and came precariously close to knocking over some priceless artifact that Booth caught mid air while equating it to a blob of ugly pottery. After replacing the ancient fertility goddess back in its place, Booth cut off the impending anthropological lecture that Brennan was about to launch into following his insulting description of the precious find. He covered her mouth again, swallowing whatever argument was forming on her perfectly shaped lips and chuckled against her mouth when she grunted her dissatisfaction with his method of conversation control.

When they finally fell through her bedroom door, Brennan was panting heavily in an attempt to regain her breath and Booth was certain his heart was going to burst through his chest. As if on cue, they both paused, studying one another carefully before moving back together again.

"This fucking dress," Booth growled, swiping his hands along her sides and pressing his fingers into her curvy hips as his eyes swept across the sweetheart neckline, which provided him with teasing glimpses of her cleavage all evening long.

Surprised, Brennan raised her eyebrows and rested her hands on his chest. "I thought you would like it, Booth." She looked down at herself critically. "Angela assured me that it was very alluring."

His dark irises raised and skimmed the pale, feminine features of her face as she continued assessing her own dress. "It's hot, Bones," he pressed against her, his thumb tipping her chin back up.

"Oh, I can adjust the air conditioning…"

"The _dress_ , Bones. _It's hot_. Fucking amazing." His thick forefinger boldly traced her soft swells, dipping into the crevice of her breasts.

Brennan watched as his eyes followed the movement and she saw his jaw tick as he clenched his molars. "I thought," she breathed softly, "that you meant you didn't like it…"

Silently, he shook his head and released her, moving around her body while trailing his calloused fingertips from her upper chest over her shoulder until he was standing behind her. Raising his eyes, he looked at their reflection in the mirror that was now in front of his partner. "How could you possibly think I wouldn't like this…?" It was a rhetorical question and he was glad she recognized it as such, not answering. He palmed her silky shoulders, pressed a kiss to her nape, then met her eyes in the mirror's reflection when he felt her shiver at his touch. "You're gorgeous, Bones." He pressed another kiss to her neck, this time just below her ear and smiled when she tilted her head to the side to give him access. "When you walked through that damn door tonight," another open mouthed caress following the smooth skin covering her sternomastoid muscle, "all eyes were on you." His hands trailed down the length of her arms until he slipped his fingers between her's. "My whole body went on full alert…"

He moved his attention to the neglected side of her neck, nudging her to lean the other direction. Nibbling the long column of milky white skin, he brought their hands up so they rested in her tummy. "You can't imagine how badly I want you, Temperance Brennan… I don't think you know exactly what you do to me…"

"Booth," she let her head fall back against his shoulder. "Please." Brennan felt like she was about to go up in flames. The feeling was irrational, impractical, and impossible. But that didn't make it less true. "I understand, believe me…"

"No," he grunted. "I don't believe you do, Bones… When that asshole touched you, placed his hand on _my_ spot, _on my partner_ , I wanted to stalk over to him and flat-out kick his ass. I almost didn't care who I'd piss off in the process, I didn't care about losing my job. I only cared about losing my mind at the idea of losing you…"

He released her hands and ran his palms up her arms again, until he reached the spaghetti straps on her shoulders. "But you," he smirked, "you let me get away with knocking his hand right outta the way. You let me escort you as you worked your magic on the wealthy donors, and you made me feel like a million bucks." He pressed yet another kiss to the side of her throat. "You, in this goddamn, sinful dress, sending all sorts of naughty thoughts soaring through my imagination, and I'm sure through the minds of every man there tonight, young and old."

"I think you're exaggerating," she hummed, enjoying his soft kisses and confident touches.

"Nuh-uh," he countered. "You look…" He shook his head, at a loss for words. "You just take my breath away…" He slid his fingers beneath the straps holding her dress up and pulled them over the soft curves of her shoulders, watching her eyes darken as she watched his movements. "This is gunna happen, Bones." He rubbed his jaw against her temple, speaking softly and slowly. "But I want to take my time with you, baby. I want to see you, feel you...taste you…"

She mewed in response, a sound she was not wont to make under normal circumstances. But Booth was doing all sorts of unusual things to her thought processes, and the loquacious scientist couldn't seem to formulate a complete thought.

"Tell me you'll let me, Bones." His gaze was trained on her face, all flushed pink and pretty, her lips parted so she could breathe and her eyes closed in surrender. "Tell me yes, Temperance." His voice was husky, his body straining to get her naked and under him. He knew it would be a challenge to ignore his baser instincts to simply take her and claim her, but he knew they would only ever have one 'first time' together and he had waited so long for this to happen, he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

At the sound of her first name falling from his lips, she raised her head and turned around, facing him and running her hands beneath his tux jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. "Yes," she whispered, accepting his kiss eagerly. She traced his shoulder holster and moaned. "You look very handsome in your tuxedo, Booth," she said distractedly, her hands returning to her previously abandoned task of slipping the pearlescent shirt buttons through their holes. "But I must be honest here," she licked her lips and raised her eyes up to Booth's, flashing a crooked smile. "I find I am quite affected by your shoulder holster, too… Your acromion are symmetrically pleasing… And your torso tapers down to appropriately proportionate hips…"

Booth's lips curled. "You sayin' that I'm hot?" As she continued working on his shirt, he unbuckled his holster and shrugged out of it, placing it on the floor by their feet, where his jacket had pooled.

Raising her eyes briefly, she quickly refocused on her task until she reached the waist of his pants, at which time she proceeded to untuck his shirt. "In the vernacular, I believe that would be the appropriate verbiage." Without missing a beat, she flicked open his belt buckle and unbuttoned his pants.

Before his partner's talented _and efficient_ fingers could work anymore of his clothes off, he grabbed her, gently but firmly, and spun her around so he could get her naked. "Christ, Bones," he muttered behind her head as he fingered the tiny zipper pull located on the side seam of she dress, teasing it down slowly. "You're dangerous, you know that?" He lowered the zip all the way down over the curve of her hip.

When the bodice of the dress gaped open from the side, Booth slid his warm hand inside, skimming the previously forbidden skin of her taut abdomen. "Mmm," he hummed against the back of her shoulder. "Turn around, Bones."

Without hesitation, she turned in place, shivering slightly at the tingling sensation of Booth's wide hand sliding along the surface of her epidermis. Facing her partner, Brennan inhaled slowly and shrugged a little, letting the dress fall from her body and pool around her strappy heels. She met his heated gaze with pale eyes, a touch of anxiety flashing before she could hide it.

"Bones," Booth whispered huskily, not even sure where to look first. "You're…" His dark chocolate irises swept down her body, quickly at first before taking his time to really and truly admire her… He swallowed visibly, licking his lips and meeting her eyes again. "You're…" The agent found himself at a loss for words. All the standard compliments that he might've paid to previous lovers seemed inadequate.

Misunderstanding Booth's inability to speak as disappointment, Brennan pulled her lower lip between her teeth and let her own eyes drop in insecurity. She had noticed her partner's tastes in women tended to lean towards petite blonds, but she'd been certain, based on his repeated tendencies to posture himself as the alpha against other males who attempted to get close to her, that his interest in her was personal in nature. Even taking into account the confessions he made when she was pressed against her door after they came into her apartment, she would have expected him to be more receptive at that point, but instead, he seemed stunted. Steadying her breath in an attempt to calm her erratic nerves, she closed her eyes in contemplation on how to move forward.

Booth closed the distance between them, realizing she thought he was dissatisfied. Reaching out, he spanned one hand around her waist and knuckled her chin with his other. When she was looking up at him, he cradled her jaw and leaned in, speaking against her mouth. "You are amazing, Bones. Beautiful." He swallowed her gasp, covering her lips and slipping his tongue into her mouth.

Getting lost in the feeling and taste of him, relief swept through the scientist's body, the evidence of his desire speaking for itself. Her wiry fingers gripped his open shirt and after several moments, they pulled apart. Rubbing her nose against his, she couldn't stop the comfort from tugging her lips into a smile. "You're not disappointed, then?" Even though she was pretty sure what his answer would be, empirical evidence was important to her, so she wanted to hear him say it.

"Dis-" he gulped and crinkled his brow. " _Disappointed_? Are you…" He shook his head. "Bones... _Temperance_ , how could you _possibly_ think I'd be disappointed?" His thumb stroked her cheek and then traced down to the lower lip that was once again tucked between her teeth.

"I don't necessarily fit the profile of your preference in sexual partners…" She shrugged one shoulder and met him with wide blues. "Angela had informed me on multiple occasions that you seem to have a certain type of woman…"

"Bones," he breathed, interrupting her explanation. " _No…_ No I'm definitely _not_ disappointed… I'm speechless." He craned his head and nipped at her jawline, working back towards her ear. "Any guy disappointed with you would be a freakin' idiot…" He tugged her earlobe into his mouth, feeling his entire body surge with the need to move their little party along.

"Although I am proficient in three forms of martial arts and I maintain a rigorous workout schedule, I am fully aware that my body type may not be the ideal shape if you are more attracted to women with petite figures…"

His grip tightened around her ribs, pulling her harder against him with a growl. "Bones," he practically growled. "Stop talking."

"But I want to ensure that if we proceed, the experience will be pleasurable for you…" The breath was forced from her body as Booth spun her around and sandwiched her against the wall next to her dresser.

"Now, Bones," he grunted and firmly planted his thigh against the scrap of material that covered her core. "I'm only gunna tell you this one more time," he pressed that thigh higher, nearly going cross-eyed when he could feel the heat radiating through his pants. "Nothing about you is disappointing. _Nothing_ , _dammit_. And your body is fucking _unbelievable_." When his answer was a tiny whimper, he ran his nose along the side of her neck, inhaling deeply and filling his lungs with her perfume and sending shivers coursing through her body. "Trust me, Bones, this is gunna be pleasurable for _both_ of us…" He leaned in harder, stabilizing his knee against the wall behind her and pressing up, giving her the all-clear to grind against him, and she did.

With wanton abandonment, Brennan's hips started moving, her body instinctively trying to find release from the rapidly building need that was suddenly consuming her consciousness. Gripping his shoulders in her strong fingers, she let her head fall back against the wall, her neck arching as her lips parted, his name dripping from her tongue.

Booth studied her from beneath hooded eyes, committing her expressions to memory as she found the rhythm she so obviously enjoyed. There was something even more erotic that she was nearly naked for him while he was still mostly dressed, and he found himself growling again, in primal desire for her. Gripping her forearms, he tugged and peeled her fingers from his shoulders, pulling her arms above her head. He wrapped both of her wrists in one firm, but careful grip and noted briefly how delicate and feminine she felt in his grasp. He dragged his other hand down one arm, over her collarbone and then further down, until he could slip a single, thick finger into the cleavage that was making him hard. He realized then that it was a front clasp and he quirked a crooked grin. Without hesitation, he flicked his finger and the red, lacy garment opened for him. Brennan's sigh and quiet urging gave him all the permission he needed.

He pushed aside the strapless bra, letting it fall to the ground with a silent whisper. "Beautiful, Bones," he muttered and lowered his mouth, placing open kisses across the upper swells of her breasts, teasing her as he moved closer to her puckered little nipples that were straining out for his attention. When he finally latched onto one, sucking it into the warmth of his mouth, his attention was diverted by her explosive reaction.

Brennan could barely breathe. Her partner had her pinned against a wall for the second time that night, his strength and sheer masculinity driving her body into a sensual frenzy. She was grateful for his thick leg, which was not only providing her with the perfect amount of pressure she knew was needed to reach a quick climax, but was also providing the necessary stability to keep upright when her legs inevitably gave out from beneath her. When he released her breasts from their confines, the scientist knew it would be only a matter of seconds before his mouth was on her, and she wasn't disappointed. It seemed to take forever, though, before he pulled her peak between his lips and when he finally did, she shattered.

The rush of adrenaline and endorphins coursing through her body was like no other experience she'd had with previous lovers. There was something distinctly unique about Booth and the way he brought her to the limit is such a short span of time. If she were to mention this observation to Angela, Brennan had a good idea of what the artist would say in response, and it would have something to do with destiny and fate and other such nonsense. Brennan, however, did not believe in fate, and she had informed Booth of this the very first day they'd met. Over the past couple of years, however, the Special Agent had continued to lecture her about such notions as soul mates and romance and meant-to-be's… As her head fell back against the wall, she put all this out of her mind, though, gasping for breath and reveling in the sensations tingling through her body.

Neither knew how it happened, or who made the first move away from the stable surface aside her dresser mirror, but soon they were tumbling into bed, both happily naked and exploring each other like newly unearthed discoveries. In a tangle of legs and arms, hands and lips, Booth was finally tucked between his partner's long legs, his narrow hips snugged perfectly against her smooth thighs.

He craned his neck back and looked down at her, studying her bee-stung lips and gorgeous flushed cheeks. "You're beautiful, Bones."

With a crooked smile, she chuckled. "Booth, you're already in my bed. You don't need to continue complimenting me…"

"I don't say it as a means to get not your bed, Temperance. I say it because it's true. And you deserve to hear it…"

His seriousness caught her by surprise. "In my experience, such flattery is delivered with an end result in mind…"

"Well, that bullshit experience ends here," he lowered himself to his elbows, so he could cradle her head, meeting her eyes warmly. "When I get the urge to say it, I'm gunna tell you. Period."

Never one to be caught up by what she believed was pillow-talk, Brennan suddenly felt herself grow warm. "What about," she rolled her lips. "What about when I make you angry?"

He grinned, that special just-for-Brennan grin, and pressed a light kiss to her lips. "Especially when you make me angry."

Relief she didn't know she longed for washed over her body and she laughed in appreciation. "I'll remind you of that next time we're in the truck and you're ranting about my scientific verbiage."

He kissed her harder at that, swallowing her surprised giggle and humming in response. "Yeah," he said against her mouth as he wiggled his hip, nudging her thighs to open just a touch more. "You do that, Bones." He brushed his nose against hers and pulled his head back again, meeting her cerulean blues with renewed passion. "Now, if you're done torturing me…" He rolled his hips and pressed against her core, giving her the blatant evidence that he was done talking.

Shivering at the way his warm brown eyes turned nearly black, she inhaled sharply and wrapped on calf around his lower back, pulling him to her. With a single nod, she sighed when she felt the head of his erection lining itself up without assistance. Watching the thick cords of his neck bulge as he tried to maintain control, she felt more feminine than ever before and whispered a husky "yes."

Unable to wait any longer, and wordlessly grateful that she was consenting to continue, he grunted and pushed into her. He nearly howled at the perfect fit, she was snug and warm, soft and wet. _And it was all for him_. And it would only ever be for him going forward… Holding himself still, he basked in the feeling of her body breathlessly surging beneath his and he opened his eyes again, the enormity of their actions soberly clear to him.

As he started to move, quite obviously bringing her enjoyment based on her responses, he studied her, memorized and catalogued her sighs and mews, determined to pull those sounds from her mouth as often as she'd let him. When he felt ready enough, certain he could hold himself back from a climax long enough to bring her to orgasm once more, he picked up the steady pace, thrusting deep each time.

With a shaky breath, he groaned. "When you walked into that ballroom tonight," he growled and nipped her neck, soothing the sting with his tongue, "in that _fucking_ red dress, and that rich asshole had the balls to lay his hand on you," he swallowed thickly when he started to feel her walls fluttering in preparation to tumble over the edge, "I swore then and there that I was gonna make you mine t'night, Bones…"

Nearly climaxing at his confession, she dug her nails into his shoulders, certain she was leaving her own mark on him. "That's very possessive of you, Booth." She tried to challenge him, but was enjoying herself far too much to lecture him about his alpha nature…

"Damn right it is, Bones." He quickened his tempo and pressure, sensing his partner's breaking limit. "That's because you are mine, Bones. I told you earlier… You're. _Fucking. Mine_."

She splintered, holding onto him for dear life as he pounded her through the waves crashing over her body. "Booth…" She, herself, was surprised how easily his name dripped from her tongue and his natural it felt. "Make me yours completely."

She knew what she was doing to him, of that he was certain, but he wasn't about to resist that pull. The agent looped his arms beneath her knees and nestled them in his elbows, changing the angle and tightness around his dick. "Yeah," he closed his eyes at the new feeling, knowing he was pushing himself over the edge. "Baby…"

"Let me feel you…"

She didn't even finish her sentence when his body stiffened and trembled, spilling himself into her with white hot flashes and animalistic grunts. "Bones," he moaned, untangling his arms from her legs, his hips fell against hers. He cradled her head once again as he kissed and nipped against her throat and lips. "Goddammit," he sighed. "That was…"

"Yes, it was…" Her body relaxed beneath his, for the first time in her life, she did not mind the weight of another person pinning her to the mattress.

When Booth regained his cognitive abilities, he rolled to the side, sliding his arm beneath her neck and tucking her against his shoulder. Pressing a kiss into her mussed hair, he heard her giggle.

"If I knew all it would talk was a fancy red dress to get you into my bed, I would have worn one to the FBI Recognition Dinner last month…"

Sharing a quiet chuckle, the partner's shifted and settled beneath the top sheet as their bodies cooled. There would be discussions the following morning and plenty of logistics to work out, but in that moment, neither cared about those things. The pair was content with the new direction in which their partnership was headed and as Booth spooned up behind Brennan, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss against that back of her shoulder, they hummed in mutual satisfaction.

 **Postscript A/N**

 **So, I hope you liked it. I realize it was just another in the huge pool of "what if" scenarios that fanfic writers have thrust upon our favorite duo, but hopefully it was OK. I didn't do a whole lot of tweaking to it, aside from some blatant spelling and grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Sorry that this delayed my next Aggregation chapter from being posted, but as I said previously, it's just about done, just needing a little something else that I'm still trying to pinpoint. Now that JazzyMuse has this little detour out of her system, we should be able to continue with business as usual.**

 **peace & love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


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